Louise Allen - Silk And Seduction Bundle 2

‘My aunt,’ she said with an ironic twist to her mouth, ‘has just informed me that now I am your wife, I can get away with all manner of social crimes, providing I never apologize for them.’

Monty frowned. That comment was tactless in the extreme. It was as though her aunt expected Midge to be a failure. What a dreadful way to send her into her married life!

Hoping to put a positive slant on things, he said ruefully, ‘Whatever you do, now that you have a title, certain people will always toady to you, that is true.’

Midge glanced up at the cynical expression on his face, her heart sinking. He might have brazened things out, as her aunt put it, for the benefit of the wedding guests, but deep down, he knew she was destined to be a social failure. All the pleasure she had felt at finally winning her aunt round dissipated at the realization she still had a long way to go to earn her husband’s respect.

Pansy put the finishing touches to Imogen’s night attire, helped her up into the enormous bed, and withdrew from the room with a sentimental sigh.

Imogen slumped back against the pillows, chewing on her thumbnail.

She did not know what to make of her husband anymore. She had got so used to thinking he was a pompous ass. But there had been moments today when she had felt positively grateful to him. Just for being there!

Any minute now, though, she sighed, he would be walking through the door that connected her room to his, so they could have that ‘long talk’ he had threatened her with. When they would ‘decide what was to be done.’ And she had a nasty suspicion that, since nobody else would be watching, he would revert to his true colours.

She heard a floorboard creak and her eyes flew to the connecting door.

More than half expecting to receive a scolding, she sat up straight, nervously pushing her hair off her forehead with trembling fingers.

Just about everything she’d done since coming to London had resulted in a scold. She glanced round at the opulence of the room he had assigned to her, as his viscountess, and felt a little pang of yearning for the cosy little room up under the eaves of the Brambles. Nobody had ever gone up there to replay the catalogue of errors she had committed during the preceding day.

She lifted her chin, tamping down on the deceitful feeling of nostalgia. The reason Hugh had never scolded her had been because he had not cared, one way or the other, what she did, so long as nothing interrupted his studies. Whereas her aunt’s constant sniping stemmed from her concern as to what other people would make of her. And as for her husband…

Her breath hitched in her throat as the door opened and Monty, clad in a magnificent green silk brocade dressing gown, entered the room.

He was bound to have something to say about her conduct. It was only natural for him to want his wife to maintain certain standards in public.

She searched his handsome face anxiously. There was an intent expression in his eyes as he advanced towards the bed, but he did not look cross.

She smiled at him, relieved that he really did appear willing to discuss the incident in the portico with an open mind.

He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. Raised it to his lips and kissed it. Smiled back at her…

And it was only then she noticed the absence of what she had hoped they were going to discuss.

‘Where is it?’

‘Where is what?’

‘The gift Stephen brought me. You said you would take care of it for me.’

There was a horrible sinking feeling in her stomach. Had he just said whatever he had felt would make her behave, without having any intention of truly listening to her opinions? She remembered the ruthless way he had bullied her into marrying him, and snatched her hand out of his.

‘You have not…you have not disposed of it, have you?’

He shot to his feet, staggered at how much she could hurt him by harbouring such a suspicion!

He turned on his heel and stalked back into his room, flinging open the doors of his wardrobe to find the jacket that he had been wearing earlier. The packet must still be in the inside pocket. Damn that rogue of a brother of hers!

Damn Viscount Mildenhall too. He shut his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cool wood of the wardrobe door. What a coxcomb he was, to assume his new bride, a girl he had coerced into marriage, would now be so overwhelmed by the honour he had bestowed on her that she would by lying in bed, panting for him to come to her.

He sure as hell would not have taken getting a girl into his bed for granted when he had been merely Lieutenant Vernon Claremont. Oh, he had learned that his looks made him attractive to the fair sex. He had wooed and won his fair share.

But he had not wooed Midge.

Just assumed…he grimaced. ‘Put yourself in her shoes,’ he growled to himself, shaking his head. If he had just endured the day she’d had, would he be feeling amorous?

No wonder she accused him of being arrogant.

Well, if he had been, marriage to her would soon cure him of that! She had quite a knack of puncturing the over-inflated opinion of himself he had acquired as a result of all the toadying that went on in London Society.

He whirled round on hearing the rustle of silk behind him. Midge stood in the doorway, her hands clasped at her waist, her grey eyes frosty.

Dear God, he hoped she had not heard him talking to himself!

‘I apologize,’ she said stiffly. ‘I did not mean to imply that you are not completely trustworthy. You said you would take care of it, and I am sure you would not lie to me.’

The words might have been humble, but she had spoken them as though she was delivering a challenge.

She more than half expected him to lie to her, he realized. She really did think he was a…What was it she had called him? Oh, yes, a vile worm.

His lips pulled tight into a flat line, he turned his back on her and resumed the search of his jacket pockets.

‘You must forgive me for forgetting all about this,’ he said sarcastically, as his fingers closed round the elusive article. ‘It is just that discussing your brother was the last thing I expected to be doing on my wedding night.’

Imogen’s eyes snagged on the wedge of flesh that became exposed when his dressing gown gaped as he threw her brother’s wedding gift to her. He was not wearing a nightshirt!

Her eyes swept the entire length of him, ending in a fascinated perusal of his bare calves and toes. She gulped. He did not appear to be wearing anything at all under that dressing gown.

She remembered the look on his face as he had approached her bed, the gleam in his eyes when she had smiled. The eager way he had grasped her hand.

And his bitter words as he riffled through his wardrobe at her behest.

‘I do beg your pardon,’ she said, hanging her head. She had been so busy thinking of things to resent about him, she had entirely forgotten what a poor bargain he was getting out of this marriage. That there was only one thing he considered her fit for.

‘I c-could leave opening this until morning.’ He had not attempted to deceive her, she could see that now. It was just that her concerns seemed trivial to him. Because she was a mere female. And he was a typically thoughtless, selfish male.

She returned to her room and laid the packet on her bedside table.

‘Oh, no you don’t,’ he growled, stalking into the room after her. ‘We will get this business out of the way, since it is so very much on your mind. I intend to have your undivided attention when I make love to you for the first time.’

His lips twisted into a sardonic smile as she snatched the packet up and went to sit on the ottoman at the foot of the bed. She would have permitted him to assert his marital rights over her, dutifully, but he would have to be blind not to see that her fingers were itching to untie the knot on that damned parcel, rather than the belt of his dressing gown.